Page 78 of Rebound
My heart jumps and I stare at Patrick, the earnestness flashing through his eyes. I nod and put a hand over his chest. “I’d love to, Trick.”
Twenty-Six. Your brand
Patrick
I’ve been sitting on the couch for the last hour, dressed with places to go. I should have known when she came rushing in through the door after work we’d be late for the party. Tamara was frazzled and a little out of sorts, but I heard the shower come on soon after, then humming and swearing followed. All of which are very normal noises given how chaotic she can be sometimes. I revel in it. I soak up the feeling of knowing I get to be with her, that we get to do this parenting thing together.
Not to mention the way it felt when she called me Daddy.
I’ve never explored kinks, not for lack of interest, but the partners I’ve been with haven’t wanted anything more. It’s always fascinated me though. I did some reading last night, so I’d know how to react if she called me that again. Apparently there’s no right or wrong way to handle it. You respond to it like any nickname or term of endearment. The minute she said it outside the clinic yesterday, something clicked in my brain.
I know my kid’s going to call me Dad or Appa as they grow up, but to have Tamara call me Daddy might actually be one of the hottest things in the world. Something tells me it’s not about a kink for Tamara, even if I’m hard every time she says it.
Now that Dr. Gopalan has assured her sex won’t hurt the baby, maybe I won’t have to jerk off in the shower anymore. My hands are tired and I’d certainly prefer burying myself inside her. I remember what she feels like clenching tight around me and how her body moves when we’re fucking like animals.
Sex isn’t important for our relationship to work or mean something, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. I’d love to ignore the world and keep her trapped in bed, but part of winning her back is showing up every single day. And I intend to do that for as long as she’ll have me.
“I’m ready! My heels snapped and had to find another pair.”
I look up as she uses the kitchen counter for support to slip on her footwear. Fucking hell. She looks good in office wear and my T-shirts, but there’s something to be said about Tamara in dresses. This one leaves nothing to the imagination. The black silk clings to her body, flaunting every dip and curve, and puts her tiny bump on display. I adjust the front of my pants as I stand. The neck is low and deep, showing off breasts I’ve been aching to get my hands and mouth on for weeks. I get a glimpse of the tip of the honeysuckle tattooed between her breasts. I remember licking it that night; remember it tasted like I thought it would—like her. With the way the dress curves over her hips and ass, I can tell she’s either not wearing underwear or it’s a thong. Both options are going to ruin me. I grit my teeth at the idea of sharing this vision with other people. Her curly hair’s been washed and fluffed, spilling over one shoulder like a dark curtain. She’s applied a light sheen of makeup and large earrings covered in pearls looped through both ears.
“Perfection,” I rasp and she looks up, then down the length of my body.
I’m wearing dark blue trousers and a light shirt, sleeves folded up to my elbows. She bites her lip and sidles over, hips swaying with every step and I inhale deeply, letting her scent settle in my bones.
“You look really nice, Trick.”
“Thanks, Lo. You look…” I whistle for lack of words to say and she grins.
“And don’t worry, I have a light jacket to wear over this.”
“Why?” I frown.
“So you don’t go kill all the other men for checking me out.”
I roll my eyes. “Let them look. Let them know you’re mine.”
Tapping each button on my shirt until she reaches the buckle of my belt, Tamara smiles. “How will they know you’re mine?”
Before I can come up with an answer, she pinches my chin and tips my head back. Her warm mouth presses to my throat and she steps away. My nerves are sparking at the proximity and contact. When I lower my head, I see a photograph of her lipstick mark on my neck.
“Mine,” she says and struts to the front door, while my cock twitches angrily in my pants.
The house we park outside of is gorgeous. I take in the neat lines of the dark roof and the lighter window frames and shutters; it’s a home found in an architecture magazine. As we walk to the front door, I imagine Tamara and I living in a place like this. A house completely designed by her and filled with all of our best memories. A visual of me chasing our kid through the backyard fills my head and my heart clenches. Knowing they’re growing and moving around in Tamara’s belly makes this so much more real.
At the front door, I ring the bell. Tamara pushes the door open and walks inside.
“Why ring the bell if you’re letting yourself in?”
She snorts. “It’s to alert them that someone is here.”
“Please let your friends know they cannot stroll into our house randomly.”
“Our house?” she teases as we walk through the brightly painted rooms.
The space isn’t cluttered and the walls are covered in gorgeous art. From the quick look I get, everything on display was chosen purposefully. As we reach the backyard, my eyes widen and Tamara gasps. It’s a large grassy area with a raised platform at one end. I hear the waves crashing not too far away and the cool ocean breeze is a nice change from the heat of the city. Lights are strung across the entire space and a long table sits in the middle. Everything has a rustic vibe and it looks really nice.
“They got married,” Tamara whispers and I frown. I thought they were already married.
